


Room In This Closet For Two

by exyking



Series: Stripper AU [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Closet Sex, M/M, Prompt Fill, Size Difference, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9626756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exyking/pseuds/exyking
Summary: Auguste has decided that the best way to celebrate his impending nuptials is to invite a horde of enormous strippers into his home, against Laurent's better judgement, and any objections to the contrary.Naturally, the evening doesn't go as planned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A million thank you's to @theordinaryvegan and @suburbanvvitch for beta-ing this. Who knew how many repeated words and glaring grammatical errors one could miss at 2am high on caffeine and regret.
> 
> Also the hugest thank you to @laurent-ofvere who passed this prompt along to me, writing it was simultaneously a heinous self inflicted torture and an immense pleasure, so bless you.

“I want you to know that I don’t approve of this.”

“You never approve of anything, little brother.”

Laurent narrowed his eyes.

“Are you going to come in, or would you prefer to stand on the doorstep all night stating your objections?” Auguste said, with an accompanying grin.

Laurent rolled his eyes, removed his coat, and threw it at his brother’s face, before pushing past him and into the apartment.

Auguste lived in the middle of the most obscenely expensive neighbourhood in the city, in one of the most obscenely expensive apartments money could buy. Grandiose and contemporary, every inch the modern millionaire’s dream. Moderation was not a term Auguste had ever been familiar with.

Auguste pulled the coat down from over his face and walked past Laurent, ruffling his hair as he went to place it in the coat closet to the side of the entrance hall. When he returned, he pulled Laurent into his arms, ignoring the flustered sound Laurent made at the sudden embrace, and sighed into his shoulder.

“I’m getting married,” he said. Laurent almost softened at the boyish joy and excitement in his quiet tone. Almost.

“You could have chosen any other time than right before you’re about to invite a male stripper into your home to be sentimental about this, you know.”

Auguste laughed, throwing back his head and releasing Laurent from his hold. “ _Strippers_ , plural. They have a discount for bachelor parties.”

There were a great many responses that came to mind in answer to that, none of which would accomplish anything other than goading an exasperated laugh out of Auguste and the repeated insistence that it was _his_ bachelor party, so he could do what he wanted. So, Laurent said nothing, but he liked to think his glare spoke for itself.

Jord, Engeurran, Lazar, Orlant, Vannes and Aimeric were already there, the last as a favour to the boy’s father, because even a bachelor party was no excuse to waste schmooze time. Laurent greeted them with a vague nod, and sat himself on the nearest sofa, the one which he had claimed as his own a long time ago.

Auguste offered him a drink and he accepted a glass of Merlot, ignoring Lazar’s insistence that wine had no place at a bachelor party. If he was to be forced to witness a handful of scantily clad men grinding and thrusting their sock stuffed groins at him, he could damn well drink what he liked.

“So, what’s Victoria doing for her bachelorette tonight?” Vannes asked, once Auguste had finished getting everyone a drink and the room had fallen into a rather drawn out silence.

“She’s going to a strip club!” Auguste replied, pouncing on the opportunity to start conversation. “A real fancy one, apparently. Victoria won’t have anything less than the most exquisite breasts bouncing in her face, so I’m told.” He winked, like it was a joke. Laurent stifled the urge to groan, and buried his face in his hands instead.

“I didn’t even know you liked men,” said Jord, sipping at his beer.

“I don’t prefer them,” Auguste replied. “But I’m partial to good looking men with a sense of rhythm.”

“Amen to that!” Vannes exclaimed, and raised her glass.

That was the moment the doorbell rang.

A part of Laurent was glad for the interruption, the room was tense enough with the eclectic personalities currently residing within it. But, knowing who was likely beyond that door wasn’t exactly conducive to feelings of immense relief.

There was a small part of Laurent that wanted to curl up into the deep expanse of the plush sofa, to make himself as small as possible in the hopes that the strippers would pass him over as an unenthusiastic participant and instead give their attention to the clearly more eager parties. Another part of Laurent, a much larger and entirely stubborn part, wanted to sit as haughtily and unabashedly as possible, wine glass dangling from those elegantly curled fingers, an arrogant and I-am-above-this sneer plastered onto his face, staring down any man with the balls to make a move on him.

Conceitedly, he imagined that strippers didn’t tend to have clients as beautiful as he was. Someone was bound to try and charm him into an expensive and, likely, sub-par lap dance, if not something a little more intimate. Though he supposed, because he always prided himself on a small sense of modesty, Auguste was as good a catch, if not more so. Perhaps he would attract the greater share of attention. Though, he was also getting married. He hardly assumed a stripper would make a move on the ‘groom to be’.

He was of course, and perhaps wrongly, assuming that sex was the natural progression of these types of events.

Laurent was twenty-one and not a virgin, thank you very much. He was perfectly aware of how the human—well, male—body functioned, of its desires. It was always big men taking one look at him, immediately deciding he was a ‘twink’, and proceeding to waste their time trying to convince him into their beds.

Tonight didn’t seem likely to be any different.

Laurent watched as Auguste went to open the door, Lazar trailing on his heels, likely to try and get first pick of the dancers. He heard the door open, the first muffled greetings, snatches of the ensuing conversation.

He turned his attention back to his wine, and didn’t bother to spare a glance for the newcomers as they spilled out into the excessively large main area, looking like a horde of particularly muscular wildebeest. It was only when they came to a stop in the centre of the ring of couches that Laurent deigned to look at all.

Well.

_Shit._

In all they were astonishingly good looking.

“Shall we start with introductions?” Auguste said, clapping his hands and beaming at the working men. “I am Auguste, groom to be, this is Lazar, Orlant and Jord, my groomsmen, and Vannes, the solitary groom’s maid. Over there is Aimeric the, uh, son of a colleague, and Engeurran there, a long time friend. And, last but not least, my brother and best man Laurent. Watch out for him, he’s a prickly one.” He winked, and Laurent allowed himself the brief fantasy of throwing his wine glass at his brother’s head. He drained the last of it instead, looking pointedly away from the group.

He noted the way the tallest and most muscular man’s eyes lingered on him, face transforming from a polite neutral to something like barely concealed interest.

Laurent refused to acknowledge the way his own eyes lingered, for a brief half moment, on the massive forearms exposed by the sleeveless shirt, the way his black curling hair framed his handsome face. He very much wanted to refill his glass.

“It is an absolute pleasure to meet you,” this man said, and to Laurent’s utter surprise, reached forward to grasp Auguste’s hand and drew it to his lips. “I hope to get to know you all very well before the night is done.”

Laurent noticed the faint hints of an accent there. Greek, possibly. It certainly fit with the look of him, all classical Mediterranean features.

“I’m sure we will,” Auguste replied, with a smirk.

“Is there somewhere we might store our things before we get started?” The second largest man asked, nudging his companion who then released Auguste’s hand.

Laurent experienced a strange sensation in his chest at the way the biggest man’s eyes lingered on Auguste. Apparently he had a thing for tall, long-haired blonds.

“Of course! The guest room is just down there off the hall, feel free to leave your bags there. The bathroom is just across from it.”

The strippers nodded and made their way down. Laurent hoped they wouldn’t steal anything.

“Fucking dibs on the guy with the curly hair,” Lazar said, as soon as they were out of earshot.

“They’re not livestock, you can’t call dibs on them,” Jord protested.

“Shut up, twinkle-toes,” Orlant said. “I want the one with the short hair.” 

Engeurran clapped him on the shoulder and laughed, though mentioned no preference of his own. He wasn’t interested in men, Laurent seemed to recall. How brave of him to agree to this. 

Aimeric, meanwhile, had turned an interesting shade of white. Jord, who had apparently decided to take him under his wing for the evening, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Laurent hoped he didn’t pass out.

“And you, Laurent?” Auguste sidled up to him, perching on the sofa and nudging him with an elbow, quirking his eyebrows like a particularly cocky teenager. “That hunk seemed to be pretty taken with you.”

“That ‘hunk’ probably has a fetish, and it begins and ends with ‘attractive’ and ‘blond’.”

Auguste laughed. “And so? Doesn’t your own fetish ‘begin and end’ with tall and obscenely large…”

Laurent scowled at him, shoving him away from his perch, and regretting, once again, the time he had been drunk enough to answer Auguste’s ever probing questions into his personal life with honesty.

“I’m going to kill you for this,” he said.

“Of course, little brother.”

Laurent wondered how annoyed Victoria would be with him if Auguste turned up to their wedding with a black eye.

When the men came back into the main room decked out in their themed stripper gear with the music to match, the night deteriorated quickly.

Laurent resigned himself to remaining sober for the evening to ensure no one made off with Auguste’s worldly possessions, and wondered if he would enjoy men debasing themselves with the ‘sensual’ removal of clothing amidst generic pop tones and primitive grinding more if he was drunk.

He did not pay any particular attention to the enormous man with the blond fetish, who had apparently chosen a cop outfit for his particular routine, and was giving a very intimate lap dance to Vannes, who had at some point been tied up with the plastic handcuffs that came with the outfit. This delighted her to no end.

Several songs in, and several handfuls of flying cash later, Laurent and the half naked men were the only sober people left in the apartment.

Lazar and Vannes had raced each other to intoxication like college students on a quota, and had not moved from their seats at the forefront of the action, where Lazar in particular could get up close and personal with the stripper Laurent had, somewhere along the time, been told was named Pallas. Auguste and Orlant weren’t far behind them, though they had a shred more dignity in their participation.

Aimeric had mostly been cowering in the corner throughout the evening, Jord hovering somewhere nearby. That was a bag of cats Laurent didn’t want to be anywhere near. Aimeric had, so far, shied away from any of the stripper’s attempts to bring him into the entertainment.

Suffice to say, when, inevitably, their attentions fell on him, Laurent did not share his meek reaction.

The largest one, the one who had pressed a kiss to Auguste’s hand, who hadn’t stopped staring at him all night while riding Vannes’s lap in his ridiculous police uniform, in the least subtle attempt at catching his attention Laurent had ever been made to endure, was persistent. Extremely persistent.

The first time he tried to come over he was quickly side-tracked by his friend, whom he called Nikandros, who wanted him to participate in a paired routine. The second time it was because Laurent saw him coming, and got up and went to the kitchen to refill his glass. He wasn’t _hiding_ from him, or _retreating_. He wasn’t _intimidated_ by the man, no matter how much Auguste laughed when he came back into the room.

The third time he tried, Laurent didn’t notice until it was too late, and by then he could do nothing but sit and watch as the ginormous, ridiculously attractive man sidled up to him.

“How about a dance for the best man?” He had purred, in that faintly accented tone. He was shirtless, they were all shirtless now, and his rippling abdomen—made entirely of muscle—was unfortunately level with Laurent’s gaze.

Not that he was looking at it, exactly.

“I think if you tried to writhe around on my lap, I would be crushed to death,” he said, and sipped at his glass of wine.

The man smirked, his eyes crinkling softly. Not that Laurent noticed.

“I don’t know about that. I have very strong thighs,” the man said.

Before he could stop himself, Laurent’s eyes darted down to the thick, muscular appendage in question, almost bursting at the seams of his tight ‘uniform’ pants, rippling as he shifted his weight. He looked away as soon as he caught himself, swallowing.

"I can see that.”

The man raised an eyebrow, smirk widening. “Can you?”

Laurent smiled, without a shred of sincerity. “Much as I appreciate banter with the ‘working’ class, I do believe you have some laps to go dance on.” He said it like the rude dismissal it was, waving his hand in a shooing gesture.

That was a little much, perhaps, as evidenced when the man’s eyes narrowed. He was still smirking, but there was a sharper edge to it when he said: “Well, just because the big brother’s rich…” he trailed off, his insinuation painfully clear. “I appreciate you saving me from wasting my time.”

Laurent raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise at the cutting return of the stripper. Laurent had entirely expected him to back off with his tail between his massive thighs, though perhaps that was an unrealistic expectation, given the forwardness of his previous actions. Others didn’t usually give as good as they got when it came to him. It didn’t usually occur to them to try.

And, well, Laurent was never one to back down from a challenge.

Staring the stripper down, Laurent tugged his wallet out of his jeans and extracted from it a perfectly crisp twenty-pound note. Still refusing to be the first to look away, despite the nearly uncomfortable intensity of their locked gaze, Laurent leaned forward and tucked the note into the waistband of the stripper’s obscenely tight arse-less pant, fingers lingering over the warm skin a moment too long.

“Was that for the insult, or the thighs?” The stripper asked.

“Neither,” Laurent said.

“I don’t usually get tips without at least shaking my ass first.”

“Then I suppose you haven’t entirely earned it, have you?” Laurent sat back, biting his bottom lip subtly as his gaze darted down.

There was nothing ambiguous about that suggestion. The man seemed to catch on very quickly.

Satisfied that he had been understood, Laurent said, “Well, if you don’t mind,” and stood up suddenly. Because the stripper had been standing so close, this put them almost chest to chest, with only a handful of space left between them.

Their difference in height was breathtaking.

Laurent barely came up to the man’s chin, and he had to tilt his head back slightly to meet his eyes. His shoulders were so wide and so muscular that anyone standing behind them wouldn’t have been able to see Laurent at all. He utterly dwarfed Laurent in every conceivable way. Not because Laurent was small, he was perfectly average sized. The man was just that big.

He looked down at Laurent, eyes travelling over his face, lingering on his lips. Laurent did not allow himself to shift under the intense scrutiny. After an incredibly drawn out moment, the man took a single step back, giving Laurent the room to move around him, though not without brushing shoulders.

If he let his fingers trail over the man’s thigh as he walked around, that was entirely accidental.

He went to the first place that came to his mind, the place furthest away from the bulk of the ‘party’, where he knew no one was likely to go. The cloak closet was small; wide enough for two people to fit comfortably, but only half as deep. One side had hooks for coats, many of which were filled, with a handful of boxes shoved underneath doubling as storage space.

He immediately began to ruffle through the pockets of the jacket he assumed was Lazar’s and, sure enough, he found what he was looking for. A small, unopened bottle of lube. Trust Lazar to come prepared.

Half a moment later, the door opened and the stripper stepped inside.

Laurent gave him only long enough to take a brief glimpse at his surroundings, noticing with amusement how close he came to banging his head on the low roof, before he pushed him against the wall and stepped forward until they were chest to chest.

“I’ve never done it in a coat closet before,” the man said, sounding amused. It was too dark to see his expression, but Laurent imagined he had that ridiculous smirk on his face.

“There’s always a first for everything,” Laurent said. Whether for his own benefit or the other’s was anyone’s guess.

Laurent surged up at the same time that the man’s arm wound around his waist and tugged him forward. Their lips met with a messy precision, and immediately the kiss became hard and fast, stirring up a heat in Laurent’s gut that he hadn’t felt in years. It was almost a fight for dominance between them; Laurent unwilling to allow the man’s superior size and, evidently, experience, to put him in the submissive role, and the man clearly unused to having to concede control to another.

It was heady, impossibly hot. Laurent could never have imagined before tonight that he would be capable of kissing a stripper senseless in the coat closet of his brother’s apartment, but now he couldn’t imagine anything else he would rather be doing.

“You’re good at this,” the man said, when he pulled back for air.

“Shut up,” Laurent returned, kissing his jaw and making his way down his neck.

“My name’s Damen.”

“I don’t care.”

‘Damen’ laughed, and let his head fall back against the wall. Laurent took the opportunity to kiss down his throat.

He licked into the hollow of Damen’s collarbone, grazed his teeth along the warm skin there. Damen drew in a sharp breath, and suddenly Laurent found himself being spun around and pressed against the wall.

Laurent marvelled at Damen’s strength, at how easily he had all but picked Laurent up and manoeuvred him to his liking. His hands went to Damen’s biceps, to steady himself but also to feel the way the muscle bulged, the hardness of it.

“I want to suck your dick,” Damen said then, in nothing more than a husky purr.

“I won’t return the favour.”

Damen stopped, pulled back to look at him. “That’s fine. Is there any partic-”

“I like you better when you’re not talking,” Laurent interrupted.

“Better give me something to shut me up, then.”

With a raised eyebrow that he knew Damen couldn’t see, Laurent planted his hands firmly on Damen’s shoulders and pushed him down to his knees.

“Go on,” he said, letting his voice drop.

Damen chuckled a little but wasted no time in reaching up to undo the buttons of Laurent’s jeans. He pulled down the zip and ran his thumb along the parting of the material, right over the shaft of Laurent’s cock. Laurent didn’t make a sound. He managed to silence the gasp that had almost slipped out of him, but he couldn’t stop the way his body jerked under the ghosting touch.

“I’m gonna have to work to get a noise out of you, aren’t I?” Damen asked, and then he leant forward and mouthed over Laurent’s bulge through the material of his underwear.

Laurent closed his eyes, clenched his fists, refused to make a single iota of sound. A challenge had been issued, after all.

Damen chuckled again, a stupidly soft sound, and pulled Laurent’s jeans and underwear down his thigh slowly, revealing Laurent’s cock, well on its way to hard. Laurent took a moment to appreciate that his eyes had adjusted enough to the dark to glimpse the image of Damen on his knees before him. It was a sight he could get used to, he thought, before he could catch himself.

He didn’t have the chance to once Damen leant forward and took the tip into his mouth.

Laurent’s head fell back as Damen ran his tongue around the sensitive head, tonguing the slit and stimulating it with gentle thrusts. A hand came up to grasp Laurent where Damen’s mouth wasn’t paying attention, and Laurent’s cock jumped at the feeling of Damen’s warm, calloused hand easily wrapping itself around him.

Then, Damen relaxed his jaw and took Laurent all the way into his mouth.

Laurent’s fist thumped the wall and his hips jerked forward, reactionary responses to the now increased stimulus, the feeling of that tight, wet heat encasing him. Damen sucked and brought the hand not holding Laurent’s cock steady up to cup his balls, massaging them with gentle motions that made Laurent’s toes curl.

He bobbed up and down on Laurent’s length, drawing him all the way inside his mouth with the perfect amount of suction, his teeth carefully out of the way, and then out shallow enough that he could lave his tongue over the head.

He groaned, mumbling something about the taste.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Laurent half heartedly reprimanded, though it only made Damen laugh. This, of course, had the effect of his mouth vibrating around Laurent’s cock. Laurent couldn’t help the tiny gasp that escaped him at that.

Damen didn’t comment on it, instead, he relaxed his throat, took Laurent’s not inconsiderable length all the way down to the base, and _hummed._

Laurent swore.

“Fuck my mouth,” Damen said when he pulled off for air.

Laurent didn’t know if he could do that 

“Please Laurent, fuck my mouth.”

Damen clearly wanted it, wasn’t saying it for Laurent’s benefit or pleasure. The way his breath came ragged and hot, the way his hands clutched at Laurent so tightly, he was desperate for it.

That made it different, of course.

Laurent reached down and threaded his fingers through Damen’s hair, feeling the soft, silkiness of his curls and tugging gently.

“Yes,” Damen said.

So, Laurent guided his cock towards Damen’s open mouth and used his hand in Damen’s hair to tug the giant man forward. He thrust shallowly at first, until Damen hummed around him again and his hips jerked, forcing him deeper. Damen moaned at that, and Laurent, through the dark haze of the closet, saw him touching himself through his pants.

“Look at you, such a little slut,” Laurent said. It surprised him, and Damen too, though, as it soon became apparent, not in a negative way.

“Yes- fuck, yes,” he groaned around Laurent’s dick.

So, Laurent thrust faster, deeper, pushing all the way down Damen’s throat. He listened for the sounds of undue choking, listened for the first indication of alarm or displeasure, but did not hear it.

It was good, so good, impossibly good. Damen’s mouth was incredible.

But it wasn’t enough, and Laurent knew he couldn’t come like this. Laurent didn’t know if he could come at all.

“Damen,” he said, breath hitching when Damen hummed his acknowledgement over his sensitive head. “Get up.”

Damen looked up at him in confusion, mouth still stretched around him, but, when Laurent said nothing further, he withdrew, leaving Laurent to shiver as the cool night air breezed along his spit slick cock.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

“No. Get up.”

Damen did, finally, get to his feet. He crowded forward against Laurent, bracing his hands on either side of the wall by his head.

Before he could say anything else, ask anymore questions that Laurent did not want to answer, Laurent leant forward and kissed him. He held his face between his hands, cupping his jaw and tangling his long fingers in the curls by his ear. He demanded control and Damen ceded it to him.

Laurent could taste himself on Damen’s tongue, the tang of pre-come. Not entirely pleasant, but he gave it no mind.

“Laurent,” Damen groaned, kissing along Laurent’s jaw and throat. “Laurent-”

Laurent shut him up by kissing him again, and moved his hands down to Damen’s waist, clutching the taught, warm skin there. There wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t muscle, apparently.

Damen made a soft noise when he dug his nails in and, emboldened, he lowered them to grab his arse, bare by design of his ridiculous leather pants. Damen groaned at that, grinding forward. Laurent felt the hardness that pressed into his belly, and swallowed.

“Have you got a condom?” He asked.

Damen reached into his pants and pulled out a wrapper from within.

Laurent raised an eyebrow. “Keep that on you for every stag you do?”

Damen chuckled. “Something like that.”

Laurent didn’t bother to answer, he just reached into the pocket of Lazar’s jacket, hanging beside them, grabbing the bottle of lube before taking Damen’s hand and pressing the tube into it, waiting for his meaning to catch on.

Even in the dark he could see Damen’s surprise.

“You want to-”

“Yes,” Laurent said. “Unless there’s something else you’d rather be doing.”

“No, it’s just- usually I…” He trailed off, and instead huffed out an amused breath. “I don’t bottom, though.”

“Did I ask you to?”

There was a pause. Damen looked down at the lube and condom in his hands as though he was confused by them, clearly not keeping up. Understanding dawned in the form of a ragged intake of breath, and Laurent smirked.

“Most guys I know prefer to prepare themselves.”

“Is it a problem?”

“No,” Damen said, too quickly. “Not at all.”

“Then stop wasting time.”

Laurent pushed his pants off the rest of the way before turning around, spreading his legs and bracing himself against the wall, arching his back slightly for good measure.

“You sure don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“Shut up and finger me.”

Damen swore, Laurent assumed at the imagery, and then he felt large, warm hands cup his ass. They were gentle, despite their roughness and size, and softly kneaded his pale skin.

He shivered as he felt the hard body press against his side, and Damen’s other arm wrapped around his stomach to help support him. He felt lips pressed against his shoulder, neck and jaw. He turned his face into them and poured all his attention into the ensuing kiss to distract himself from his rising nervousness.

It had been a long time since he had done this.

When Laurent heard the cap of the lube come off, he turned to press his forehead against the wall, to brace himself for what he knew was coming.

In an odd moment of clarity, it was only when he felt the press of a finger to his hole that it occurred to him just exactly what he was doing; namely, allowing himself to be prepared to be fucked by a complete and total stranger, who had just deep throated his dick like a casual pro, who was also being paid to strip for his brother and friends at a stag party, in the tiny coat closet, without a lock on the door.

The reasonable part of him was absolutely disgusted by this turn of events, and by his own willing participation in this obscene degradation.

Every other part of him was wholly focused on the way Damen’s finger circled his hole before dipping inside.

He gasped, eyes closing as his body reacted to the foreign sensation, instinct telling him to tense up. He knew he had to relax, he wanted to allow the other inside, but somehow the tension in his body just wouldn’t dissipate.

Damen seemed to recognise this and did not move his finger from where it rested inside him, waiting for either Laurent to relax or to be told to get out.

Neither of them said anything, and very soon the silence became cloying. After a handful of minutes had passed, Laurent let out a sound of frustration.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Damen said, softly. “Just relax, let me in.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, you dumb brute?” Laurent snapped.

Damen laughed again, a deep and rich rumble that spilled from his mouth and filled the small closet space.

Despite himself, Laurent wondered at the sound, at how such a giant and foreboding individual could sound so kind and gentle just from the tone of his laugh. Somehow, it seemed to ease something in him, assuage some unnoticed and unacknowledged fear that came from memory, from an expectation Laurent hadn’t even realised he had had.

He felt, oddly, safe, with the man’s finger in his arse and his laughter in his ear.

In a sudden shift the tension eased, and Damen was able to gently and carefully work his finger inside.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful,” he muttered, awed.

Laurent closed his eyes and turned his face to shut him up with his lips.

Damen stretched him slowly and gently, apparently untroubled by the idea that anyone could burst in on them at any moment, and that their absence from the party was likely already noticed. He thrust his finger in and out, alternating between going deep and shallow pulses focused on stretching his rim.

When he asked to add another finger, Laurent snapped at him to get on with it, breathless in a way he barely noticed, almost painfully hard.

It was after the stretch of the second finger that Damen crooked his fingers and grazed Laurent’s prostate. He closed his eyes as the buzz suffused throughout his body, taking a deep breath and allowing the intense stimulation to tip over into pleasure. When Damen crooked his fingers again, he couldn’t stifle a quiet gasp.

“Fuck, Laurent,” Damen groaned.

“That is the idea,” Laurent quipped.

Another chuckle, soft and breathy. People didn’t normally chuckle at his antagonistic retorts.

It was then that Damen’s hand dipped down to envelop Laurent’s cock, grip firm and expertly tight. Laurent gasped, hips stuttering, caught between wanting to fuck forward into Damen’s fist and back himself onto those fingers inside him.

Damen stroked from root to tip slowly and leisurely, still stretching Laurent’s arse, and Laurent could do nothing but close his eyes and focus on containing the moans and mewls that kept trying to spill out of him.

Damen himself made breathy sounds and little groans, as though giving Laurent pleasure was the most gratifying thing in the world. No constraints of time or location concerned or rushed him. He seemed hell-bent on wringing every ounce of pleasure from Laurent on his own terms.

When he pressed a third finger to his entrance, Laurent shifted his hips backwards to encourage him, breath hitching as it caused Damen’s hands to stimulate the sensitive head of his cock. The stretch was a dull ache, offset by the pulsing pleasure of stimulation, all encompassing. He wanted Damen inside him, he wanted to be fucked by that massive man and his likely massive cock. He wanted-

Another nudge at his prostate and Laurent’s legs gave out. He would have fallen if Damen’s arm hadn’t caught him around his middle, abandoning Laurent’s cock and using his frankly lewd strength to simply hold Laurent up and continue on.

“You are obscene,” Laurent gasped at him.

“And you are exquisite.”

Laurent rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite manage to fend off the smile that snuck its way onto his face.

Only a short time later he said: “I’m ready. Fuck me.”

Damen wasted no time. He withdrew his fingers carefully and shoved down his pants one handed, still holding Laurent up with the other. His fingers fumbled to open the condom he had managed to re-find in the darkness. When he took too long, Laurent swatted his hand away and took the condom himself, ripping the packet in half with his teeth and reaching for Damen’s cock.

It wasn’t the first time he had put a condom on someone else, but he’d never tried in the dark, and with no idea what their dick looked like besides.

When Laurent’s hand closed around Damen’s length, he took a quick intake of breath. It was _huge,_ and rock hard though he’d barely been touched. Sure, he’d had a hefty bulge in those stripper pants, but Laurent had assumed it was clever pant engineering that had designed the suggestive endowment. Apparently that wasn’t the case for Damen. There was nothing sock stuffed about this.

“I’m big,” Damen said, then. It wasn’t a boast; his tone didn’t belay any smug satisfaction. It was simply an observation, and a caution. “I have never hurt any of my partners before, and I will stop immediately if you wish. We don’t have to continue at all.”

Laurent paused, deliberating. He wouldn’t consider himself a ‘size-queen’ as such, but he couldn’t deny that the girth of Damen’s cock was absolutely appealing. He’d never been with a partner possessed of such a length. It seemed to him just another challenge to conquer.

He gave a slow stroke from root to tip, feeling the way the shaft thickened and pre-come beaded at the head. He hummed, feigning consideration, like he hadn’t already more than made his decision.

“Do you think you could hold me up against the wall whilst you fuck me?”

Damen’s cock twitched in his hand. “Fuck Laurent, yes.”

Laurent hummed again, circling the tip of Damen’s cock with his thumb, pressing into the slit and enjoying the way Damen’s entire body jerked.

Satisfied that Damen had been teased enough, Laurent rolled the condom onto his dick, and squeezed a healthy amount of lube onto his palm. He spread it over Damen, and then he reached behind himself to smear the excess over his hole.

Damen cursed again, and Laurent found himself being spun around and his back pushed into the wall. When Damen crowded against him, Laurent was all but enveloped, able to do little more than reach up and hold on to Damen’s shoulders as his mouth was promptly ravished.

Damen was good at kissing. He knew just how much pressure to exert, how much teeth and tongue to use to tantalise. He drew Laurent’s bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled so gently. Laurent ground his hips upward with the little leverage he had, rubbing his exposed cock into Damen’s leather pants.

“Well?” He asked, and scratched his nails down Damen’s chest.

“Fuck, you’re demanding,” Damen said.

Laurent gripped his hard cock again, squeezing tight and stroking up. “Seems you like it.”

“God I do,” Damen conceded, then he grabbed Laurent’s arse and, in one smooth motion, lifted him up and pushed him against the wall. Laurent was held securely, his head centimetres away from banging against the ceiling, now at eye level with Damen.

Laurent arched his back to press his groin harder against him, enjoying the friction of his cock against abs. He wrapped his legs around Damen’s waist, and pressed one hand up against the ceiling for leverage while the other clutched Damen’s shoulder for balance.

“You are grotesquely strong,” Laurent said.

He could almost picture Damen’s smirk when he replied: “And you like that, don’t you?”

“As much as you like my pretty face and blond hair?"

Reaching their stalemate, they fell into silence, the only sound in the small space their ragged breathing and muffled music of the party still in full swing in the room beyond.

After catching his breath, Laurent leaned forward to press another bruising kiss to Damen’s lips, and gasped as Damen lowered him slightly, his erect cock standing proudly and brushing against Laurent’s backside.

“Don’t make me ask again,” Laurent growled against Damen’s lips.

“Ask what?” Damen enquired. Laurent wanted to hit him for the insolent amusement in his tone.

“You—fuck me, _Damen.”_

The way Damen shuddered at the sound of his name falling from Laurent’s lips was rather self-explanatory.

“Hmmm, you like it when I say your name? If you fuck me, maybe you’ll get to hear me scream it.”

That was all the encouragement Damen needed.

Shifting all of Laurent’s weight to one hand, Damen reached down with the other to grasp his cock, lining it up to Laurent’s entrance as best he could in the dark.

Laurent’s heart thudded as he felt the tip at his opening, and he reminded himself to breath and relax, bearing down a little to facilitate the entry.

When Damen lowered him further, using gravity and Laurent’s weight to slowly slide him down onto his cock, Laurent couldn’t help the sound that escaped him. Damen felt huge inside him.

He bit his lip and swallowed down a whine, holding himself perfectly still as Damen slowly, slowly, lowered him down, until his arse rested against Damen’s hips, his length fully buried inside. It was then, with no space left between them, that a grunt escaped his lips.

Damen immediately stopped when Laurent made the sound, holding him perfectly still at his exact height. “Are you ok? Did I hurt-”

“No, no shut up,” Laurent snapped, and closed his eyes.

There was pain, there usually was, as his body tried to adjust to the penetration. It was a little sharper than he remembered, but bearable. He knew worse pain than this.

He forced in a deep breath, and reminded himself that he was safe, that Damen had promised him no harm and that he did genuinely believe him. He reminded himself that there were people nearby if he needed help, that he was alone in this room with this ridiculous man but he wasn’t alone in the apartment. He reminded himself that he wanted this, that he had initiated this, that Damen’s huge, hard body and quick wit was interesting enough to render all of this viable. He reminded himself that with patience and determination, this would feel incredible. He knew without question that he wanted that.

“Say something,” Laurent finally managed. “Keep talking, please I-”

Damen seemed to sense that something was wrong, given Laurent had been telling him to shut up all evening. “What’s wrong? Laurent are you-” he was making to lift Laurent up, to step away, but Laurent didn’t want that. He clutched Damen’s shoulder tighter and wound his legs around his waist more securely.

“Don’t stop,” he said. “I want this.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” Damen asked.

Laurent hated him for that.

“Please just keep talking. I just I need- I want-”

Damen seemed to catch on, finally, and stopped trying to move away. Instead, he started to gently stroke the thumb of the hand supporting his weight across the dip of his lower back, the other free hand moving up to cradle his jaw, stroking a loose lock of hair behind his ear.

“Ok, I can keep talking. You’re so beautiful. I wanted you from the moment I saw you, sitting on that couch sulking. But I guess you knew that. I wanted to dance for you, show you how much I wanted you, but then you opened your mouth and you were such an _asshole_ and I only wanted you more. I’ve never- I don’t do this with clients. I know I said, with the condom, but I haven’t- I never want to. I’ve never-” He trailed off, breathing heavily and pressing his forehead to Laurent’s chest, overwhelmed by the tightness of Laurent’s body and the desperate need that was building within him.

“I’ve known you only for a handful of hours, but I have never wanted anyone more. I feel drunk, I feel high on whatever the fuck you’re doing to me.”

Laurent would have scoffed at the cliché, but he was finding it difficult just to keep breathing. The pain was dissipating, falling secondary to the feeling of fullness that came from the stretch, the first hints of pleasure that he knew would come, and Damen’s voice was soothing the flare of panic that had risen in him, easing the nervous tension that threatened to overcome him. But the things he was saying-

“I wish this closet had a light so I could see how you look, how pretty your skin would flush. I want to see you come apart.”

There was a moment, drawn out between them, where the honesty of Damen’s words seemed to finally settle in. Perhaps it was all just the heat of passion, meaningless things said because of lust and desire, that following release would be rendered worthless. Somehow, it didn’t feel that way. Laurent didn’t know if he wanted it to be that way.

“On the wall, next to the door. There’s a light switch.”

Damen’s arm tightened around his waist. “Can I-”

“Yes,” Laurent said.

Damen reached behind him with his free hand and fumbled around on the wall, careful not to jostle Laurent, until he felt the light switch. He turned it on, and the room was flooded by dim, orange light.

Everything felt more real with the lights on. The darkness which had afforded them a shred of secrecy, a detachment from reality that had emboldened them, was stolen away. Now, Laurent could see Damen, this man whom he barely knew, whose cock was buried inside him, and all the truth on his face.

He could see the awe in his eyes as Laurent was bathed in light, taking in his mussed hair and flushed skin, the way his chest rose and fell in breathless pants. He could see how beautiful Damen was, breathless, his muscles bulging with Laurent’s weight. He could see beyond doubt how well he fit in Damen’s arms. He could see everything.

“Fuck me,” Laurent said.

“Yes,” was Damen’s reply. “God yes.”

He rolled his hips, pressing Laurent against the wall, his giant hands holding his waist to keep him steady. He started a slow rhythm, drawing out and thrusting deep in precise, methodical motions, giving Laurent time to adjust to the feeling of him. Not one for letting another do all the work, Laurent used his leverage against the ceiling to push down into Damen’s thrusts and let his head fall back against the wall as he savoured each slick slide inside him.

Where the initial difficulty of the stretch was a challenge, now it was a pleasure the likes of which Laurent hadn’t experienced before; he’d never felt so full, so thoroughly fucked, certainly not by someone with the physical strength to hold him against a wall while doing so.

And Damen clearly knew what he was doing, was clearly skilled at exactly how to thrust into Laurent to ensure he felt everything, even the tiniest movement inside him, magnified into blissful waves of sensation. He knew which angle would drag against Laurent’s prostate, how much pressure was too much, how much was not enough, where to find the balance between the two.

Laurent felt like Damen was very methodically and thoroughly driving him insane.

“Laurent,” Damen groaned, head falling forward into his chest. “Fuck, fuck you’re so tight.”

Laurent squeezed around him for good measure and relished the broken moan that spilled from Damen’s mouth. 

“Faster,” Laurent hissed at him, “harder.”

Damen cursed and did as he was told.

Damen no longer used his grip on Laurent’s hips to hold him steady against the wall, now he was physically lifting Laurent up and down on his length, thrusting up into him as he slammed him down. Laurent let out a cry as it forced Damen deeper, faster, as it allowed him to speed up and control their joining even more.

There was a certain element of helplessness to it; Laurent had almost no control, after all. He could do nothing but breathe and gasp and _feel_ as he was fucked into with abandon. Yet, somehow, he still felt safe. He knew with an odd amount of certainty that Damen wouldn’t use his superior strength to take any kind of advantage.

With that in mind, Laurent was able to push off of the wall entirely, his arms wrapping around Damen’s shoulders and tangling in his hair, surrendering all of his weight to Damen’s arms.

Damen didn’t even break stride.

He wrapped his arms tighter around Laurent as Laurent wrapped his legs tighter around Damen’s waist, and continued the relentless rhythm, thrusting up again and again, bringing Laurent down to meet him with a building force. Laurent gave up trying to stifle noise as the sheer force of the motion drove sounds out of him, broken moans and, embarrassingly, drawn out whines.

“You are- you are- ngh, uh- ridiculous,” Laurent panted, and cried out again as Damen drove deliberately into his prostate

Damen grinned up at him, a dopey smile. “Say my name.”

Laurent’s hands gripped his hair mercilessly, tilting his head back and claiming his lips. He kissed Damen with lips and tongue and teeth, giving back in this kiss as good as Damen was giving him in his ceaseless thrusts. Any normal human being should have been exhausted at this point, but still Damen showed no signs of slowing down.

“Damen,” Laurent growled into his mouth, sucking on his lower lip and biting down. “ _Damen_.”

“Laurent, Laurent fuck I’m close-”

“No, don’t you dare come,” Laurent snapped, and Damen whined.

“Fuck- fuck please- please Laurent.”

The thrill of ordering Damen about, despite the fact that he had total physical control of the situation, was heady. Damen could probably rip him apart with his bare hands, but he wouldn’t even come without Laurent’s permission.

What was meant to be a quick and negligible fuck was quickly turning into something Laurent hadn’t anticipated or prepared for. Not even close.

“Make me come,” Laurent commanded, and then he was being pushed back against the wall as Damen freed one hand to reach between them, fist curling around Laurent hot and tight.

Laurent’s back arched and pleasure exploded behind his closed eyelids. He was close, so very close, a hairs breadth away from falling apart, but he couldn’t reach it. He should have known that just because everything about this was new, was different, it didn’t mean that the same thing wouldn’t happen which always did.

“Please Laurent,” Damen begged. “Please come, fuck- please. You’re so beautiful, wanna make you come so bad, fuck-”

Laurent could barely breathe for need of release; he was so close he wanted to cry. Desperate, he surged forward, capturing Damen’s lips with his own, clutching his sweat slick shoulders with a death grip.

“Damen,” he gasped. “Damen-”

Then, all at once, Damen thrust deep, slamming into his prostate, as his thumb pressed into the slit of Laurent’s cock, squeezed tight, and he buried his face into the crook of Laurent’s neck and bit down. Somehow, incredibly, impossibly, it was enough.

Laurent came, back arching and eyes squeezed shut, his mouth falling open and a strangled cry spilling from his throat, somehow taking the shape of Damen’s name. His passage fluttered in release, milking Damen’s cock, and the other man swore and cursed and continued to thrust, fucking him through the aftershocks, drawing the pleasure out until Laurent slumped boneless in his arms.

“Please, Laurent I-”

“Yes. Yes, come. Damen.”

With a cry, a sob, Laurent’s name breaking on his lips, Damen buried himself deep and came.

He stumbled a little, finally tiring after what should have been an impossible act of physical strength, and Laurent nimbly extracted himself from Damen’s arms before they both went crashing to the floor. He slumped down against the wall, sliding down to sit on the ground, having the sense of mind to sit on a scarf strewn on the carpet to avoid leaking lube all over the place, and tugged Damen down beside him.

They sat in silence for a long time, catching their breath. Laurent allowed himself to close his eyes and savour the lingering high, his body still wracked with the occasional tremors.

He was a mess. He hadn’t bothered to remove his shirt so now it was covered in come and sweat, and his hair was plastered to his forehead and neck. Not to mention how slick and messy his ass felt.

Damen wasn’t looking much better. He was covered in a sheen of glistening sweat, his curls matted to his forehead, his chest and torso striped with ribbons of Laurent’s come. He didn’t seem to care, apparently.

“We wouldn’t be this messy if we’d gone for the more traditional route,” Damen finally said, cracking an eye open to see Laurent wrinkling his nose at the mess.

“Traditional route?”

“Blow jobs, hand jobs, you know, the easy stuff.”

Laurent raised an eyebrow. “You would have preferred that?”

“Fuck no,” Damen groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face, smiling wistfully. “I haven’t met many people willing to go all the way with a perfect stranger the first time they meet, to be honest. Especially not in a, uh, coat closet.”

“I don’t usually do things by halves,” Laurent said, and shrugged.

Damen laughed. It was different in the light. Now there was not only the smooth sound of his rumbling chuckle, there was also the scrunching of his nose, the parting of his lips, the way his eyes crinkled as they closed.

He was beautiful.

Laurent looked away.

“No, I don’t think you’d ever do anything by half.”

“You don’t know me,” Laurent said.

“I don’t,” Damen agreed. “I’d like to.”

Laurent blinked at him.

“Is that such a surprise? I just spent the last half hour fucking you stupid.”

Laurent glared at him, but had no retort. It was a surprise, though Laurent couldn’t say why. Had he really expected Damen to just say thanks and walk away? Had he expected him not to?

“You want to do this again?”

“I do,” Damen said. “But, uh, I’d also like to take you out sometime. Dinner, maybe. Do you like dinner?”

He was blushing, Laurent noticed. He hoped his own fluster didn’t show on his skin, though considering his complexion, realised that was likely an unrealistic expectation.

He leant forward, into Damen’s space, twisting his body so his arm could go around him. He looked him in the eye as he leant in, watched the way Damen leant forward almost instinctually. He smiled, a sly thing, and pulled his phone from the pockets of his jeans, which had been lying on the other side of Damen. He unlocked the phone and handed it to him.

“I’ll call you,” he said, and snatched the phone back as soon as Damen was done fumbling his number into the new contact.

“Okay,” Damen replied. There was doubt in his voice, as though he didn’t actually expect Laurent to do that.

Without thinking, Laurent closed the distance between them, pressing a brief kiss to Damen’s lips before pulling back, smirking at how Damen leant forward to chase him.

He stood and pulled on his pants, frowning at the mess of his shirt and opting to just fetch his coat, seeing as it was so conveniently close by, buttoning it up to cover the stains. He ran a hand through his hair and straightened it as best he could, before looking down at Damen who was staring up at him.

“Wait a few minutes before you come out,” Laurent said, and then he was opening the door and slipping away.

When he walked back into the main room, he was relieved to see that everyone was still caught up in the swing of the party, likely not having noticed he had left.

The second largest stripper shot him a glare as he came in. Laurent ignored him and made his way to the kitchen.

He filled a glass with water and gulped it back just as Auguste came in behind him.

“Well, well, little brother,” he chuckled, folding his arms over his chest and grinning like an idiot. “Been having fun?”

Laurent glared at him, turning away to put his glass in the sink before a smile snuck its way onto his face.

“Fuck off,” he said, and walked out of the kitchen, Auguste’s laugh following him as he went.

 

 

***

 

 

_“Hello, this is Damianos speaking.”_

“I knew that wasn’t your real name,” Laurent said. “Though, really, did the need for anonymity not occur to you?”

_“Laurent?”_

Laurent smiled at the shock in Damen’s voice, as well as the sleepy grunt he made, audible over what sounded like the rustling of sheets.

“What, did you not expect me to call?”

 _“I- I don’t-”_ Damen trailed off. _“I don’t know, but definitely not at… fuck, Laurent it’s 5am!”_

“About dinner,” Laurent went on, ignoring his last comment. “Pick me up tomorrow at 8pm. I hope you own at least one nice suit, otherwise it’ll be incredibly awkward for you. I’ll text you my address.”

There was a drawn out moment of silence. Briefly, Laurent worried that he’d gone too far. Was it too arrogant to just demand this, too petty?

 _“Yes, yes ok. I do, I- yeah. Yeah ok.”_ Laurent couldn’t manage to school his smile into submission as it widened at the soft, wondrous tone of Damen’s voice.

“Good. I’ll see you then,” Laurent said. “Oh, and bring your handcuffs.”

He hung up amidst Damen’s spluttering response and put his phone on the bedside table before rolling over, pressing his smile into the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> https://exyking.tumblr.com
> 
> cos im too lazy


End file.
